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Shaz
Aspiring Film-maker. A student of cinematography. Loves images, soccer, steaks and streets!
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- Jun 13, 11
Statutory Warning – This is my longest post. Maybe my last as well!
I see Baba Ramdev on TV everyday. I don’t like him. I will not compound facts here. I don’t care if anyone gets offended by this statement. My reasons are very personal. I guess, more than Baba Ramdev, it’s this ridiculous idea of a ‘New India’ floating around that I seem to dislike even more.
I have had a pretty eventful week. A wise man had once said ‘He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at’. My visa application (to The United Arab Emirates) was recently rejected as UAE Emigration records suggested I was residing in the UAE while applying for the visa from India. As funny as it might sound, there is reason to worry. For all that I know, I might be a victim of identity theft. I did feel important for approximately six seconds.
Countless mails were exchanged. My passport was scanned, scrutinized and sent to different places at once. I no longer felt important. I felt rather odd and isolated. It was slightly intimidating as well. My travel agent suggested me to investigate the matter once I reach there. Such intense invigilation was clearly not my idea of a lazy Thursday.
I decided to take a breather. I met my grand mom the same night, and we had a rather amusing conversation about marriage and family dynamics. For a 75 year old suffering from all sorts of geriatric ailments, she makes a lot of sense. I slept early as the whole business of getting my passport issue fixed had made me travel close to 300 kms in 18 hours. Famished, I slept like a dog, and woke up the next day afternoon to a rather bewildering sight.
My brother (A sane yet highly frustrated Indian citizen) was seething. I faintly remembered him discussing about applying for his marriage certificate the previous day. Honestly, I was a little apprehensive about approaching him at that point. He was so angry, he could have killed someone. He was swearing, his nerves throbbing, pulses racing and his face was plush red. He rarely loses his cool; I knew something was seriously amiss.
My brother was unable to apply for his marriage certificate within 45 days of his wedding. It was an error of judgment on his part. I guess he was too caught up with all the ‘tamasha’ that surrounds a wedding. He is a student of Emergency Medicine, works 7 days a week usually. The odd day that he gets a holiday, is on a Sunday. He lives in Calicut with his wife (A doctor again), which is approximately 3 hours from Kannur, by road. They have a lovely little kid, my niece, and she turned one recently.
The procedure to get a marriage certificate in Kerala is rather simple. You have to fill up a form, sign twice in front of the registrar with two witnesses, and in theory you would get your certificate in 2 months. Though in practice, there is an entirely different script.
My brother had patiently filled the form (printed in Malayalam) earlier in the morning. Considering the fact that the form was in Malayalam, he filled up a rather lengthy and slightly bizarre form in the same language. He attached his wife’s driving license and his passport copy as documents for verifying names/addresses. He signed wherever necessary, carried all the documents required, took my sister in law with him (Both of them had to be present at the registrar’s office in order to obtain the certificate) and headed to the registrar’s office.
He met the clerk in charge of handling marriage certificates. A Salt and peppery haired man, with a full sleeved white shirt and an air of scumbag entitlement around him; he epitomized all possible stereotypes! He was indeed the prototype government servant. He looked at the form, and mocked at my brother. The conversations that ensued ranged from borderline stupid to downright ridiculous.
He asked my brother if he possessed common sense. My brother was obviously offended. When asked why he felt my brother lacked common sense, the salt and peppery haired man said that if he did posses common sense, he would have filled up the form in English. My brother took the form, and asked him in which language were the questions printed. He replied ‘In Malayalam’. My brother asked if it was mentioned anywhere in the form that the applicant should fill the form in English. He replied saying ‘No’. Now, it was my brother’s turn to offend the salt and peppery haired man. He asked, ‘So what are you talking about?’
The clerk replied curtly ‘Do not talk to me about the technicalities of this form’
The clerk was bruised, quite badly. Round one was a clear knock out. His next statement was preposterous. He asked my brother why he would show his wife’s driving license as proof for verifying her name. My brother replied that it’s a document issued by the government. The clerk retorted with a vengeance saying ‘Driving license, really? Go to Mangalore, anyone can get a fake one, this will jus not do’
My brother knew that argument was clearly not the way out. Their sensibilities were distinctly different. He asked if my sister in law’s pan card would do. The clerk laughed. He said ‘Doctor Sir, It won’t do’.
‘So how about Election ID?’
The reply was terse. ‘You know how they are made as well, Get your wife’s ration card or SSLC book, nothing else will do. (She was not allowed to use her Passport, as she had applied for one only after she got married)
For the next few minutes, my brother just stared at the man in disbelief. SSLC book and Ration Card remain the only two documents in India that is immune to tampering. You can fake election ids, birth certificates, pan cards, but you just can’t recreate the SSLC book or the even more primitive Ration card. The logic, spellbinding! India Shining, Indeed!
I forgot to mention one key element here. The form had clearly mentioned that the passport, driving license, ration card or election ID can be used as a document to verify name/address. When brought to the notice of the clerk, he replied curtly ‘Do not talk to me about the technicalities of this form’
The entire form had to be refilled, in English, with a new set of documents. The clerk also informed my brother that he had to get a letter from the ward counselor certifying that the house in which my brother resides, was indeed his own house and hence, all necessary documents had to be furnished to the ward counselor.
He was also asked to arrange for two witnesses (not related to my brother), who would be available whenever summoned by the registrar to verify the details. There is no time frame here, it could be anywhere between a week and two months, and if by chance the witness leaves the state, falls sick or fails to show up, my brother wouldn’t get his certificate. I guess its applicable if the witness dies as well.
The story doesn’t end there. He also had to get a letter of approval from the Mullah who presided over the Nikah, signed and sealed by the Masjid Secretary. Since my Brother’s in-laws hail from Taliparamba, a small town situated 30kms from Kannur, he had to drive back and forth to get a mere signature from the hapless Mullah who had presided over the function.
As my brother’s wedding took place at my home, he was asked to get a document verifying the very existence of my home. The document has to be handwritten, the language prehistoric, only then would it hold value in the bureaucratic set up. One should not get confused with the ward counselor’s letter mentioned above. They are two separate documents.
And as a punishment for applying late, my brother had to also write an apology letter (In English or Malayalam) addressed to the registrar for committing such a terrible crime. He has to be back again next week, with his wife and child on a weekday, to sign in front of the Salt and Peppery haired clerk. Once that’s done, the registrar would call him to collect his certificate, and this time he would have to get along the witnesses as well, on a working day! That in short, is the task in practice.
We spoke over tea. My brother had calmed down by then. His questions were pertinent. Time and again, we gloat over the fact that we live in a free democratic set up. A citizen’s right remains the state’s prerogative. We also have a superpower. The Vote! Strike them down every 5 years, celebrate our power, and then continue to remain victims of bureaucratic demagoguery. We celebrate the victory of TMC in Bengal, and the AIDMK in Tamil Nadu. News Channels title it Democracy’s victory. The bureaucratic nightmare continues for another 5 years, we strike down the elected ones again, and the same old story repeats itself, like in a vicious circle. My right to vote is of utmost importance though. That’s my comeback. An exercise to inflate my thwarted ego!
Make the ‘empowered’ citizens run around for months to get a get a piece of paper, that in all certainty will not be accepted anywhere in India as the chances of getting a fake one is alarmingly high. And yet, The Dawood Ebrahim’s and Hasan Ali’s of this world have no trouble moving around in this country. The terrorists, politicians, bureaucrats, filmstars, civil society servants and Yoga Gurus in India live a charmed life. The rest of us have to be content with Bureaucratic Red Tapism. We are the empowered folks after all. We remain suspects in the eyes of the state, for marrying, for voting, for holding pan cards, for paying income taxes, for taking ration. That’s what I could infer from the salt and pepper haired man’s comments.
No Baba, No Anna Ji can/would want to change this. The intellectual elite of this country are interested only in discussing profound issues. Union Ministers are busy organizing red carpet welcoming sessions for self appointed civil society leaders. Political leaders dance to celebrate the idea of democracy, and they give press conferences to justify dancing. It comes on TV every night at 9, on all news channels. But we, the empowered citizens of India have the last laugh. We are the ones who send SMS’ to polls conducted by our beloved news channels. Our right to express, indeed!
‘He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at’
P.S It’s been 12 months since I gave exams for pursuing my further studies, and I still don’t know when my classes will begin. It’s a government run, prestigious institute. - Jan 14, 11
Images. Frames. Compositions.
I would like to make it clear that I don’t like using the term Photo. Somehow it kills the very essence of what is being captured. Photo makes it sound technical, metallic, Silver Chloride like. I don’t get technology. Image sounds aesthetic, makes the ‘moment’ almost alive and breathing.
I recently happened to flip through a bunch of old images. Stacked, dusty and sticky, a peculiar smell permeated across the room, one that of years passed by. A stale stench, that of my childhood captured by my folks. It’s wasn’t their love for photography that led to this sizeable collection of childhood images, but it was more of an endeavor to document every aspect of my life as it passed by.
I was born fat. And by fat, I mean real fat. Legend says that I was a victim of many a bite, a painful yet unique way of expressing love. Babies make ideal subjects. Babies are small, round, often posses’ precocious smiles and wear wonderful clothes. They make pink look good! A stroke of Johnson’s baby powder, a cool cap and any baby would look angelic. Always ready for a Kodak snap.
And yes, Baby fat is often considered cute. Flabby fat. Rubbery Bands. Stretch. Release.
Our childhood images show that we are all well-brought-up. I don’t know if its colonial hangover, but most parents stick to the idea of buttoning up a child till he chokes to death. Talcum powder remains, but is often concentrated on the forehead and on the neck. One often gets to see things like White running shoes along with formal trousers (Terrible combo), but it’s often passed along as a ‘Kids thing’. I think for girls, it’s the infamous hair-cut. Crop cuts, often called boy cuts in my part of the country! More often than not, we all do okay. Our parents do realize that we are being documented, and hence a bit of effort goes down as to how we look. Again, most of it depends on how well versed they are with haute couture.
But just like the calm before a storm, teenage life awaits us. Waiting to shred our reputations to tatters, it crashes into us and stays forever, in the form of these candid images. I genuinely feel human beings look sick between the ages 10 – 16. Reasons - Bad haircuts, bad dress sense, centre parting, a lethally bad sense of fashion and ugly hair sprouting out of nowhere to cite a few. The almost unmissable moushy below the nose makes for some ugly viewing. Add to that those conspicuous countenances with a hint of rebellion! Puberty strikes with a vengeance indeed. It’s bad enough that we all looked so hideous back then, but the fact that we had readily accepted those images makes the idea of viewing the immediate present quite bizarre. And what’s with all the wannabe poses. Scrawny framed, arms crossed, cap flipped backwards, oversized shades (borrowed from siblings more often than not). That’s when we fall from grace, from sublimities to downright ridiculous! For a while I thought it was just me, but a gradual study on this subject convinced me that a large part of us were bit by this almost mutinous teenage bug. It should also be noted that some of us never grow out of it, which is indeed pitiable.
Fact – Talcum powder is detested by most teens!
College life straightens most people out (Not everyone). Although, one needs to seriously question the idea of taking party pictures. Its just bad photography (even at a technical level). Sweaty people drenched in alcohol, cigarette fumes, seductive gazes, disco lights, red eyes and what not! Ugh!
As the years go by, we broaden up a little. Bones flatten out. Some remain fit, for others triglycerides start accumulating steadily. Beer Bellies and Thunder Thighs! Hairlines recede further; a hint of grey starts appearing. All documented. Happier images! Images that graph our growth, our wisdom and experiences! A rather enlightening journey from being a beautiful baby, to ignored adolescent to a handsome adult. The spectrum finally ends at Old age, where we will all be called cute again, a painful yet unique way of expressing love!
It’s quite a nice feeling to look through these frozen images. It gives us a certain sense of perspective as to how we have aged graciously over the many years. How along with us, our surroundings too have changed drastically.
I thank those moments, I thank those images. It made me smile tonight!
P.S Digital images may have completely taken over, but the sheer joy of flipping through old, pale and sticky prints is incomparable. - Jun 03, 10
The head’s splitting. The stomach’s either twisted, or stretched. You wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t want to know what’s wrong. The tongue’s arid. It doesn’t want to talk. The eyes are blood red, it doesn’t want to unwrap. The early morning sunshine is no longer pleasant. It’s a transports you to a different hole. A space that is desolate. You become god, you declare yourself to be in hell for the many painful hours to follow. The legs hurt, almost everywhere. The knees are weak, the muscles have tightened up. There is seething anger, terrible despair. The question ponders? Why did I do that? Some call it an alcohol induced delayed reaction. Others call it, a hangover.
There is love. There is this unimaginable sense of togetherness. You feel her hands stroking your neck. A shiver goes up your spine. It’s not lustful, yet it’s border line tempting. You crave for more. You clench her hands, you stroke her hair. Her head rests on your shoulder. It’s not just support, it’s intimacy beyond ecstasy. You wouldn’t want it to end. You wish you could capture this image using the most powerful lens, and frame it on your favorite tangible wall. Yet, the clock ticks. The clock ticks to bring in compromises and arguments. Trust has taken a detour, Love goes hiding. There is intrusion of space, there is lack of privacy, and there are arguments beyond rationality. Love’s gone, distance is in. A fatal SMS, or a well rehearsed monologue. Let’s pull the plug! Some call it a failed relationship, some call it a breakup.
Suddenly, everything you loved in the past takes a holiday to Costa Rica and does not come back. All the remarkably romantic acts that you did, or rather performed, seem juvenile and sappy. You look back in bewilderment, and realize you were marvelously moronic. Social networking sites irritate you. She suddenly appears in every single wall post. She seems happy. She is socializing. You feel like an idiot on a donkey, depressed, angry and totally confused. You see her flashy smiles, and you confuse them for happy ones. At times she looks beautiful again, and you wonder why things went wrong. You berate yourself because she ‘likes’ your friend’s Google Buzz status. Rage engulfs you, how could she be so inconsiderate? Yet, you don’t accept that somewhere down the line, you too were wrong. You have officially become a victim of your own brain-thwarted expectations. You know begin to classify yourself. You feel like, and in the process, have become the ultimate Jackass. You go outside for a smoke. You see a bus with her name on it!
This is where alcohol comes in. Simple Logic, No rocket science. Man’s ultimate escape mechanism. Illusion sets as per proportions consumed. Euphoria follows. Dumb jokes are funnier now. Head feels light. There is an immense urge to let everything out. The opposite sex looks hotter. Testosterone levels seem to higher (at least at a psychological level). The music transports you to a new zone. Maybe, you are having a good time. Since common sense has gone for a siesta, you derive logic between consumption and contentment. the more you consume, the better it will get. Horrifying similar to your failed relationship. You get clingy, clingier and then it gets clumsy. Before you know it, the liver gets into action. Bile, whiskey, beer rum and pancreatic juices muddle up in all the convoluted tubes that keep us alive, and suddenly regret seeps in. The plug pulls up. The putrid cocktail comes out. The head spins for one final time, and then there is a fade out.
All the good times you just vanish without leaving a trail. The clock seems to be slow. Hours don’t pass easy. You are hungry, yet you can’t eat. You hate yourself for being so stupid.
You wish better sense had prevailed. You wish if you could remember the wild night. Present juggernauts the past. The past is a black hole, waiting to be forgotten.
To put it simply, both suck at a very towering level. More often than not, it’s a chain reaction. It’s bizarre, a fatal break up almost all the time leads to a near fatal hangover. History is sour, present sucks and future looks terrible bleak. A break up and a hangover are eternal twins, mystically connected. Let’s simplify, and call it, A Break Over!
Lime Juice and good music might give some relief. And of course, time. Time fixes everything, including the dry tongue.
P.S. I am not drunk. I am perennially single. - Apr 09, 10
I have known Ali for 7 years now. I remember meeting this puny young boy when dad had moved into our new apartment. His Dad, a very generous entrepreneur used to run a small supermarket right next to our apartment. He had four sons, Ali being the youngest. They were very popular in the neighborhood. All of them possessed the most wonderful smile one could fathom, and each time I went there, Uncle gifted me one chocolate. They all ran the business together, and have done remarkably well.
Last April, if my memory doesn’t fail me, Uncle had met with a fatal accident in Abu Dhabi. He had gone to clear his telephone bills when a car took him out. A lethal crash, and the pleasant face I so often saw, had just left all of us for good.
I would meet Ali everyday. Every time I stepped out of my building, I would see him, hooked to his phone. He would have a wide smile on his face. It’s not that we were best of friends. We hardly fielded conversations, yet we used to meet everyday. A customary ‘Hi’ and a flashy smile just outside my building, was fairly routine.
The young man was now ready to get married. A week back, he had met my elder brother at the supermarket. Ali informed my brother about his wedding. He was a shy young man of 23, eager to start his life with the girl he had met a year back. Lost in love, hoping for a bright start, he clearly had the look of a happy man. He was heading to Iran the very next day. He told my brother that the Nikaah was scheduled sometime this week. We wished him luck. It’s quite surreal to see someone of your age getting hooked up and married. Apparently, in Iran it was quite a common thing to do.
Over the years, I have visited Abu Dhabi on numerous occasions. Over the past six months, I have been here, more or less, trying to find a suitable job. I can safely say that I have mastered the art of planning. Every week, a new plan was hatched. Regrettably, I haven’t yet mastered the art of execution; From Plan A to Plan J, if this trend continues, I shall soon run out of alphabets.
As usual, the day began on a mundane note. I woke up when the Sun was at its peak, Shining away, bright and happy. Considering the fact that my social life is at an all time low, Friday is indeed a day I dread. The world seems frozen yet bright, none of the cars move from their parking space, People sound like sleep-deprived androids. Friday is the day every working human in UAE loves to sleep.
After my prayers, I watched a horrendous Hindi Film called Life Partner. There was this one scene in that movie, when a ridiculously arrogant father in law compared his bride’s IIM Ahmedabad degree to that of any college degree in India. Clearly, I wasn’t in for a good day. Chauvinism, Ear Popping screeching, terrible filmmaking and Fardeen Khan followed. I tested my patience for an hour, and disdainfully, switched off the television.
I got into the virtual world. Spoke to a few friends - the usual everyday conversations. As the day ploughed along, my brother came online. We started discussing about my Plan K, and clearly this was reaching nowhere. Plans were struck down, new ones were made, and in the process of making a decision, a hundred different scenarios were sketched. A lot of effort goes into planning. Firstly one has to set a time line, secondly, everything has to go according to plan, and thirdly a lot of obstacles have to be considered, or maybe even manufactured. It involves faith, brains, and time. Time hasn’t been a factor off late; neither has been my indomitable faith. I was now officially a man, with many a plan. As the discussion stretched to every possible scenario we could comprehend, we arrived at Plan L and Plan M. Dad looked at me, smiled and said ‘let’s go for a walk.’
Just as we got out of our building, it seemed as if the lights went out outside. We figured out that Ali’s Supermarket was shut down. We met the caretaker of that building, and enquired. He told us that Ali had passed away in Iran; he had met with a fatal accident. On a Friday, He had performed his Nikaah just a few days back.
For a second, I felt completely numb. An unexplainable void, a sense of desperation, anger, and absolute helplessness, splurged through me. Both of us froze into oblivion. It was extremely difficult to recover from. I still remember, how my brother told me about his plans. The young man was looking forward to start a new life, paint a new canvas in his life, and suddenly he had vanished, into thin air. At the age of 23, the young man with a mobile phone, and a magical smile, was no more. I looked at the bench where he used to sit, it laid there, empty, without a companion.
It’s sometimes futile to think way ahead of our lives. Such incidents make us realize how important it is to live for today, be with the people we love the most. Death is so frightening sometimes, it’s not the pain that scares, It’s the emptiness that’s terrifying.
For a believer, these things are destined, for an atheist, this is how nature balances out. Yet, it’s unfair. I spoke to dad for about an hour after that. He said, Life doesn’t stop there though, we figure out ways to move on. New chapters unfurl in front of us, terrible grief is often followed by anecdotes of happiness.
Ali My friend, May your soul rest in peace. Amen. - Jan 09, 10
The day began on a very colorful note. As usual, I woke up very late, but it’s hard to blame myself for that. I understand why some organisms hibernate during winters; it’s indeed the best time to sleep. The warmth of your blanket, and also the realization that you don’t have to wake up to face a brooding boss early in the morning is quite blissful. I am enjoying this induced hibernation from tension, stress and work. An aesthetic city, plenty of movies, tea and the occasional kebabs make Delhi the ideal place to chill… Literally!
Anyway, I soon logged into the virtual world and bumped myself into a rather amusing puzzle. Mysteriously, I read colors all around. Dazzling colors, bright and dark, soft and hard. I must say that I love colors. Colors in concept itself excite me. The possibilities are never ending; the pleasure to the eyes is at times too appealing. So, I was curious to figure out was happening. Maybe it was color day. On enquiring among a few friends, I received weird replies. Some said it’s a secret, while some laughed at my ignorance, or rather naiveté. Now, this indeed was intriguing, there were colors all around and I had no clue what the mysterious secret was. Finally, a received a link from one of my seniors, and as I read through the article, I realized that there was a ‘strong social cause’ associated with this whole color ordeal.
A Detroit blog was one of the first to suggest that the color update craze was started by women in Detroit who were trying to raise awareness around Breast Cancer Another blog backed up that notion and included the following Facebook message which reads as follows:
“Some fun is going on…. just write the color of your bra in your status. Just the color, nothing else. It will be neat to see if this will spread the wings of breast cancer awareness. It will be fun to see how long it takes before people wonder why all the girls have a color in their status… Haha.”
So there it was. I had done my Sherlock Holmes routine and unraveled the truth. The mysterious colors where merely a vehicle to promote ‘awareness’ of breast cancer. The more I thought about it, the more I laughed at the sheer idiocy of the idea. The tidal wave of stupidity that followed for the whole day was irritatingly assiduous.
At times I think we have become absolutely numb and tactless. We are ignorant beyond belief, thought process is at an all time low, and like the famous comedian Louis CK said ‘we now live in an amazing world which is wasted on the crappiest generation of spoilt idiots who don’t care’.
First things first, let’s not confuse information for awareness. We live in an information age were news is readily available, but if people fail to dissect and assess this information obtained, it neither serves him nor humanity any purpose. Knowing about a social stigma is one thing, being aware of it is totally different. Does this bra color gimmick make people aware of the causes of breast cancer? Do people realize that late or no pregnancy, birth control pills, substance abuse, lack of breast feeding obesity and lack of exercise are some of the main causes for breast cancer. Long story cut short, do people realize the effects of lifestyle changes on the broadening of such a disease?
If someone is aware of these things, they would try implementing changes in their own lives. But overlapping cultures have changed our very way of living hasn’t it? Alas, there is a parallel line of thought where a lot of women are against pregnancy, citing it as an obstacle to a successful career. While some say its added responsibility and strain. There is no doubt that substance abuse is at an all time high. It’s nothing but a contagious combo of hypocritical ignorance which is truly hard to explain.
If one observes Human history, there have been many revolutionary movements. The bra burning movement in the 70’s, at an ideological level was very potent. It stood for a lot more than the terminology in itself. Very recently, the Pink Chaddi campaign against the Ram Sena gained phenomenal attention. Highly popular, not only was it strong structurally, but also the idea behind the movement was thought provoking. Sadly though, the latest ‘announcing my bra color movement’ makes absolutely no sense, and the fan following is just bewildering. At best it does provides for some voyeuristic pleasure. There is no reasoning or thought behind the whole ordeal, and sadly, people women from all over the world have readily accepted it without a flinch, and more frighteningly, without even a thought.
As a society by default, we take cribbing is taken for granted. We whine about how irresponsible the media is. We abuse the paparazzi, and hurl stones a media houses for their sheer audacity. It’s important to recognize that media regulation is possible only if one cares about his/her own privacy. Millions of users tweet every single day, informing peers and friends about every diminutive facet of their lives. It involves exchange of articles and information, photos and videos. At times though, some people express mood swings and at other times some inform people about the most irrelevant details like what someone got from the nearest supermarket. Dissipation of information is important, but informing people about when they are going to take a dump is not going to bring any sort of revolution.
What the likes of Facebook and twitter have done is something people need to closely introspect. Every photograph, every video and every bit of information one puts up is readily accessible to millions of people all over the world. While most people consider it as a minor hitch in an otherwise profitable venture, mindless acts such as the one above will not help anyone; rather it will modify social norms to a level beyond control, and maybe even beyond repair.
So where does the fault lie? Is it ignorance, lethargy, our mutinous ways of living, cyber space or the human intellect in itself? Is it really difficult to take two minutes off and think about our so called ‘humorous gags’ and the sheer stupidity of ones actions? Religion has often been termed as blinding, but episodes like these tell me that WE as a society never have been so blinded by what’s fed to us. People spend millions on post graduate programs but sadly education from the best universities all over the world do not help us in differentiating stupidity from common sense
At times it’s also a matter of self respect which somehow seems to have evaporated from within us. As one of my sensible friends Ruchika (very few that I have, I realized) commented about the girls who readily flaunted about their bra colors ‘If tomorrow you boys want to know what 'color' bra they are wearing ,and if you ask them casually, they should not call it eve-teasing or misbehaving’.
Social networking is indeed true democracy. There is absolute transparency, at every level, and that includes our own lives.
I surrender to the power of the Web World. It can mystify… and stupify millions! - Nov 30, 09
How should I react if I knew that my house was virtually sold, without either me, or anyone in my family even having the slightest clue about it! After four hours of unfathomable lunacy, I am sitting in front of the system. I am angry, at the same time; I cannot help but think of the sheer audacity of the real estate nexus in Kerala.
Trust me guys, today has indeed been one of the most eventful days of my life. I don’t know if I should call it eventful, it was crazy, it was annoying, it was treachery like I have never seen before. I am irate; but yes, it has changed my perspective. It’s hard to think rationally now; I will try my best to derive some logic out of the whole ordeal.
Over the past few months, rumor mills had churned out a very infectious tale. My house, which I might add, is one of the most special assets in my family’s life, was apparently up for sale. Now, in a small town like Kannur, such news generally spreads like fire on gasoline. This is the kind of news that can transcend economic, social and even political boundaries. Everyone is mystically related to each other somehow in this town, and such topics are debated intensely whenever there is a congregation. In this case, the famous ‘Mallu Weddings’. After all people need to talk about something over Biriyani! They generally prefer talking about the sorrows and grief of other people. Isn’t that kind?
Now, such stories also have the potential to whip up tragic tales along the way. Stories that range from a father being desperately broke, to tales of misfortunes that occurred to the family after the house was built. Add the superstition element to the scenario, and we have a whole new ballgame. Some coincidental, some manufactured, but who cares, everyone has their AUTHENTIC SOURCE.
Now for some reason, the story never seeped down to my family. I am guessing it’s because people did not want to talk to a family who’s ‘financially devastated’. Some assumed we were in terrible grief, so they let us be. We were ignorant and insulated from predicaments that would have dire consequences; I would like to thank them for their sympathy. Thankfully, no one said that the house was haunted.
Over the past few months, my brother kept receiving calls regarding the sale of my house. It was annoying, but we didn’t care much. We thought it was just a harmless rumor. As time passed by, the rumor spread like crazy. Slowly, our close relatives began to know about it, and that’s when we realized the gravity of the matter. It was bemusing to be honest. Comments like ‘It’s sad your dad has to go through all this’, ‘all families go through issues like this, don’t worry’, ’Sell the house, it’s given you such bad luck’. A whole load of bullshit can piss anyone off. So now, we were incensed. We had to get to the root of this problem, or rather the rumour.
So, my brother and uncle proposed a fool proof plan. We decided to get in touch with the henchmen, and pretend to be a potential buyer. So we called the guy, fixed up an appointment. Our brief was simple, ‘We are expats searching for a new house, which is up for sale. Budget is subject to the condition of the house, but we are looking for a really beautiful house’. Now the guy informed us that there was a house, definitely up for sale for an amount that made our jaws drop! He was talking about my own home! They had by then decided the price for my home.
The deal was simple. We had to get the guy home, he was our main link. My brother entrusted me to GET HIM HOME, at any cost. I knew, I had to use all my acting talents to convince him that I was a buyer. Think of the irony though, I am a buyer planning to buy my own house! He said he would meet us at the nearest petrol bunk. Me and my cousin took off to the bunk. I conveniently dressed myself as the ideal GELFY! Shirted tucked in, shoes polished, and hair neatly parted (it’s terribly suffocating) I had just declared war against the real estate mafia.
We waited for him for about 10 minutes, and as predicted he was on time. He was awaiting his big scoop, little did he know he was selling the house to its OWNER. He asked us to follow him, and I gave directions to my brother “we are coming, be ready”. As we were heading towards my home, he stopped abruptly, my heart skipped a beat. He showed us my school mate’s house, and said this is 'the house'. Now, this was unexpected. Surreal Shyte! He showed me my friend’s house from outside, and said it’s up for sale too (What a bastard!). We started negotiating the rate. I said it’s too expensive. I had to coax him somehow to show me my own house. 5 minutes of 'beating around the bush' worked, he said there is one more house, just down the road. Yes, I got the fucker! I slowly told myself ‘Somebody is gonna get a hurt real bad!”
We followed him, and he stopped near my house. Boy oh Boy! Weren’t my folks waiting for him. My uncle enquired what’s happening. The poor guy had no clue that I had just fucked his case; he swallowed my bait, and now he’s going to pay. Pay for his crime, Pay for his misdemeanor. I felt like Quentin Tarantino, acting in my magnum opus movie! Sigh! there was no background score to accentuate the tension.
We called him inside, and that’s when the saga unfolded. Apparently, our man (We’ll call him ‘The Idiot’ for convenience) was informed by another agent that the house was for sale. So we called the other guy. Now, these guys are bloody thick skinned i must say. The agent came inside, screaming at ‘the idiot’. He then said what he should never have said “Who the hell asked you to get the people inside the house without consulting me’. I have no clue how he got to the conclusion that he could decide who should enter my house! Thankfully, my brother didn’t kill him. It was outrageous. Now, the agent and the idiot started playing the blame game. The agent introduced one more character into the saga , the Big agent.
Now, the Big agent was not in town. (Maybe he was wreaking havoc in someone else’s life), so two of the big agents friends (and they were big, literally) came home to sort out the issue. As the hours passed by, we realized that the hierarchy was a lengthy and scary one. We decided to get to call everyone involved in the scandal. The number’s increased. Slowly, there were around 10 real estate agents in the house, add along with that their friends. Madness ensued, and yes… it was turning ugly. Now, all of them had been assigned to sell our house. I could not control my fury. Very sarcastically I told one of the BIG AGENT’S “Is this how you work”. He said “Yes, you don’t have to make this a big deal out of this” Selling my house without me knowing it, shooting rumours that my family was broke and in grief was a not a big deal after all. Tempers flared, the tension had reached boiling point. It was getting dark; it was getting even uglier. As we figured out the nexus slowly, and how it functioned, we got through to the man who might be the guy who started the rumour. He has apparently struck a lucrative deal with a Doctor who loved the house. The amount has been agreed by word. They are coming tomorrow. We are waiting for him. Thankfully, some of the agents understood the significance of the issue. They have said they will cooperate with us. Tomorrow, we are hoping we can nail the guy behind the madness.
In a nutshell, this is how they work. The big agent assigns many small agents to search for houses. They run around the city, pick and choose houses, and they blatantly declare in the market that the house is for sale. The news spreads like wild fire. They decide the rates too. Exorbitant amounts, we are talking in Crores here. They start showing the chosen houses to clients, and they fix a deal. Then, the agent meets the owner, and gives him an offer. An offer he can’t resist! Some people succumb to temptations. Some succumb to humiliation in society. So slowly, the rates are manufactured, and prices shoot up, like crazy! A house worth 30 lakhs is hence sold for 1 crore as it becomes the market price. Also, these guys have bureaucratic contacts who can manufacture documents. All paper work concerning the house can be made in weeks. Scary isn’t it. Your house might be sold, on paper, without you even knowing it.
Honestly speaking, there is nothing much we can do. As I overheard conversations, some lead me to terrifying spaces. The top agents are not even in Kannur, they are spread over different states and countries. It’s a nexus that is strong, extensive and potent. They are influential, they have big contacts, they can turn things on its very head and they know how to pull the strings.
I can’t help but wonder what has happened to society? Treachery, deceit, profits and cold blooded instincts! It’s indeed a mean, at the same time funny world.
As the madness continued, the agent asked my brother if he could leave for prayer. My brother smiled. Even in treachery, there is always a prayer. - Nov 17, 09
When one finishes reading a book, there is this sense of pristine satisfaction that he/she experiences, a feeling that cannot be matched by any other action or thought. Life is nothing but a voyage of chapters, blissfully skipping from one to another, with a few heart aching moments, some engaging ones and some filled with mystery, the very catalyst that fuels us to go on and read the rest.
As I was packing my bags to glide towards a new chapter in my life, I sensed a certain numbness that is hard to elucidate. Premier Residency’s ledge is indeed bliss most of the time (barring the mosquitoes), but sometimes it makes you feel frozen. Frozen in time, Frozen in space, a feeling that is indeed hard to explain. The weather was grim, the breeze made the leaves rustle, I could feel the raindrops in the air, but I couldn’t touch them. It reconfirmed my belief that existence is not always tangible. Was it Solace or Exasperation, I wouldn’t know, and might never know.
Once I finished my course, I felt a sense of delirium to be very honest. 3 years in Manipal can be an awfully long time for some. The characters often remain the same; such is the very structure of the student town. Puzzled countenances were easy to find, because the place often freezes one to oblivion. The place gradually grew on to me; I enjoyed the ruthlessness of the freedom it granted. The ecstasy of independence was too pleasurable to evade. I followed the rules I set for myself, and had the liberty to break them at my own will. I began to understand images, sounds, colors, randomness, emptiness, faces, hearts, tantrums, anger, fear, politics, ego and slowly, myself. It pained me to face rejection, but I slowly embraced it too. Indeed, the Manipal Bubble had encapsulated me and a host of others into a sense of false belonging. A fascinating mixture of elation and anguish, coupled with the most insane people one could ever get to meet.
But yes, I was looking forward to a new chapter in my life. A Chapter that had promised me knowledge. A chapter that would lay the path for my monitory needs, a chapter of new experiences, new interactions, more learning, freshness and radiance.... Deep down though, I wanted to get back to that Bubble, and feel the sensation all over again
The few months post college were bitter sweet. Family time was refreshing; the warmth is infectious, the food is mind numbing, the coziness of the blanket back home is something unexplainable. But the world suddenly seemed mean. Materialism, Money, Paid favors, and Portrait smiles were all that I could see. Frustration grew exponentially; the randomness I enjoyed so much in the ‘bubble’ seemed to be my biggest opponent. I feel conviction kills spontaneity, but the moment I stepped out of the ‘bubble’, I realized spontaneity is not the order of the day. This chapter was tough for me to digest. I was a man without a plan, and now in a very precarious place… No man’s land. What next? The question kept popping up, I no longer felt insulated. I needed the bubble back, or I had to face the music, rather the cacophony of the vicious world and its heartless souls. This chapter was indeed distasteful, and I couldn’t wait to get back.
Once again, I set the rules by myself. I needed time, to experience the euphoria again, to meet the ones that meant the most to me, to escape the ferocity of the competitive rooster coup, I wanted some imagination back into my life, a spark of inspiration that I could not ignite in my previous chapter. In search of a new beginning again, I was back, back into the bubble again!
I saw those faces again, some were filled with elation, some cheerful, some were flustered, some confused, some angry and some fed up. Nothing much had changed in the ‘Bubble’, but that’s how it’s designed to be. I sensed people around me after a long while; the isolation I endured in the saturated world was now a thing of the past. I was jubilant, as I saw emotions again. Real or fake, it sometimes doesn’t matter, I prefer symphony over monotone.
The long lost associations were reignited. Discussions, Conversations, Monologues and at times silence, they all followed. It was overwhelming. Many stories were reminisced; many moments were felt all over again. There was warmth, touch, and resplendence. Some new friends were made, some were re born again. There was theatre, there were people, there was rebellion, and there were many sappy songs to add zest to this exciting chapter. Over the many lunches and dinners, I let everything out. It took time, but I was able to share my happiness, thoughts, annoyance and frustration to those who mattered. And yes, there was romance in the air, adding spice and life to this beautiful chapter. No wonder the colors looked more vivid. Love is to sense, Love is to feel. I wish she held my hand sometime.
Some atrocious movies and many goodbyes’ later it was time to leave. Was there are reason to leave, not really, but time draws up on everyone. It’s never easy to say goodbye, but that’s one thing the bubble thought me. You need it let go, even if it’s tough. I think I am letting things go, I am ready to be consumed by the mean world, I don’t feel inspired, but at least I don’t I don’t feel lifeless. Maybe that’s what the bubble offered me this time.
In the pastiche of faces that I came across, some endeared to me, some were ignored like the many we choose not to look at during our journeys, and some may have become etched in my heart forever.
As I boarded the bus to No Man’s Land, I wasn’t sure if the memorable chapter had come to an end. Some chapters are left incomplete, and I have a feeling this chapter is one among them. Maybe there is more to add, maybe there is more life left. Till then I shall wait…
Here I am, back in No man’s land… waiting to be pristinely satisfied….. - Aug 13, 09
I love my balcony. I would even go on to say that its one of the most principal sources of my ongoing education. By education, I don’t mean Academics, which is the unfortunate stamp forcefully tagged along with it. I have managed the highly over rated ‘A’ word gracefully, or so I believe.
I sit in my balcony because of a few reasons. The ‘four walled’ feel I get from my sitting hall is often quite overpowering; My Balcony gives me a new lease of life, a breath of fresh air quite literally. Secondly, owing to the significantly high temperatures outdoors, Dad has put up some strict rules of which keeping the AC switched on at all times is a absolute must. So, one could say that it’s a desperate act of escaping the terrible chill indoors. Quite ironical though, as sometimes, one could smell the roads, and at times sweat, due to the appalling heat.
Thirdly, it shows me time!
At 6.30, every evening, I see this White Prado stopping at the signal, right across the road. I have never met the guy who drives it, but I know him. He is what I would call the Saturated Man. Now, Saturated Man is rich, because he is driving a Prado!! He works in a big company, holds a dignified post in his office. He goes to office at 7 in d morning, and returns at 6 in d evening. Everyday of his life!
Saturated Man lives in fear; he knows he can never be a secure citizen in this country. He is just one radical move away from being deported from the country that feeds him. He lacks social security, his family life is an arrangement, it lacks the vividness, the romance, the love that has somewhere down the line all been lost during the fight to survive, and he goes back home every evening, not having the slightest clue where his life is headed to.
I have tried placing myself in Saturated Man’s shoes. I see that the pay scale is amazing, the most magnificent malls are five minutes apart, the luxurious hotels are just around the corner, just turn around and I see a fast food joint, the roads are clean, everything is available… and still I am saturated!
I stepped out of the Saturated Man’s shoes and all these things seem bizarre. What if the pay is high, what if the malls are awesome, how often can I have delicacies from the same place, how does it matter if the roads are clean. How much can I enjoy all these things? What am I doing with my life?
Now, the clock work precision with which people work in the UAE is indeed fascinating. A wonderful thought, but come to think of it, the mundaneness is petrifying. There is no interaction, the rooster coop is so big, one loses track. Like my friend said, it’s literally a rat race.
The artificiality that envelops this region makes history highly intangible. I believe, we fall in love with cities because of its history. The VT station in Bombay, Eiffel Tower in Paris, Coliseum of Rome, they are all prime examples of how we connect with the past. The situation here though, is different. History seems to be swept away, without the faintest hesitancy. All I feel is the heat, and not the history. Saturated Man doesn’t care!!
Maybe it’s the case with every soul living in any sophisticated city. Maybe it’s because we believe we are content with what we have. Maybe it’s because we have not had the time to stop, look up and think.
But how could the Saturated Man think, if he thinks, won’t he be left behind in the rat race?
He wouldn’t be on time then. And if he isn’t on time, I would keep searching for him, which would make my hot tea go super cold…because at my place, tea is served, at 6.30!
On time… again! - Jun 20, 09
This was written bout a month bak... dunno y i din post it den.. anyways.. my blog desperately needs a post... so here it is
Mr.Kanumarath,like always gave me a very random call at around 11.30. He said Barca's playin Madrid.A few minutes later, me and kanu took off to his place, and we saw probably one of the most amazing act displayed by any team. Barca thrashed Madrid 6 - 2, it was indeed a feast to the footballing eye.
The abuse i took on myself on farewell night was still bearing its weight on me. Orange juice was indispensable, so we decided to take a halt at planet cafe. As i was riding by the manipal edu building, me heart skipped a bit, i knew that my time has come here, Manipal... The most bizarre student town one could ever fathom.
As i sat at planet cafe, a flurry of memories shot past me. My first visit to Planet cafe was on Kopal's bday, 16 of us had gathered that night for dinner, and that;s wen we figured out the fammous burger haven of manipal.
2 and a half years back.. phew... time flies... doesn it.. from there on.. planet cafe has been a central part of my life in Manipal. In a sense, Planet cafe got me my closest frenz in Manipal. Those long and amazing Chai sessions with one mr.Ramanathan aka smart aussie tamilian who can get away inspite of havin an e mail id like handsomeme@gmail.com), didnt we discuss, debate and deliberate!!! We discussed everythin under the sun, from politcs, religion, ideologies, Article 19, Journalism, Ethics and of course.. MIC and its inhabitants. I kinda got to know Ramu better der, and those sessions changed a lot of cliche's attached in ma head.
Then there was always Azmal, Niranjan and Anadi, who would jus randomly blurt out the magical lines.. Chal be, Chai peeke Aate hai. We created our own imaginary production house there, We dreamt of Success at the Oscars. We discussed the flip side of life too. We discussed chances of Anadi winning the academy awards and the other 3 of us sipping tea at Azmal's chai shop.We discussed Books, our lives.. and of courses our astronomical Ego's.
As i rode back, i couldn't help but see fragments of all those wonderful days i have had here. To the left of China valley, i saw the road leading to end point, where our football team had valiantly tried to keep MIC's honour at stake. We have tried and I am sure next year the boys will win its first match for MIC. EAch time we lost, it hurt even more.. the results have got better every year though.. we have improved, and next year, i am hoping KAnu, Vinee and co shall achieve what a few of us couldn't do.. Win MIC's first match at Inter MAhe!!!
We slowly glided past BQ mess, where i fielded conversations with two of ma favorite people in Manipal.. Shoaib Zaman and Raajita Di. I am officially their kid, and i do feel like a little boy whenever i am around them. They brought a new lease to ma life here. They cared, n i felt their care, n for that i would always be grateful to them.
KMC has invariably affected my time here. It started off with the ill fated trip to Kasargod when all of ma frenz ended up getting hospitalized. from there on there has been a host of visits to KMC, fortunately always as a visitor all the time. Charaka Ward disgusts me!!!!!!
As we rode on, HOt and cool appeared. Hot n cool was magic, so was the hong kong fried rice.The Shambavi Boys(Raj, Me, Venky, Ramu, Norten) religiously ordered food from there, everyday. The scene was routine, a slightly high Raj would call them up.. and order.. BOSSS... ek schechsshisiwishhhhh... hahahahaha..... bossss... ek chicken schchsehehwish fried rice, ek hong kong fired rice.. chilly sauce).
The four of us always heard the same line, still we always laughed. Shambavi days were memorable. It was freedom unparalled... the jokes wer not always hilarious.. but we laughed.. the fights were not always serious.. but we debated as if our lives depended on them.Shambavi had a charm of its own... n it laid the aisle ready for us to have a blast here.
Off late Shambavi has been taken over by some of my illustrious juniors. There is this one paricular apartment in Shambavi that i like, 603, which houses 4 of the craziest,whackiest and insane people i have ever met. Teddy, Misra, Chicken Frend and Pakao SIngh... Their insanity has made me laugh my guts out time and again. And how cud i forget all the lil parties we had der.. the queen of kubait party, the intoxicating TMJ party, pavi's apple cutting bday party...
As i entered Rukmini house, i knew that the show was comin to an end.... My room, often, the silence aided me.. it gave me space, it provided with the little bit of serenity that was quintessential for ma survival in Manipal... So many memories... so many landmarks...
loved the BBQ party also... was easily ma favorite party in MAnipal.... it was one of those few parties wer all of us had a ball... the setting was awesome.. the food was great, thanks to shabavi 603, sonali and ahwetha... actually shwetha, ami, shiva, kim and sachi were instrumental.... pavi and swati also helped... surubhi hookah was magical, shikha's vodka helped.. we spoke sang and had the time of our life... awesomeness it was i must say
Ahh.. shit... thinking about it now.. it feels nostalgic.. has been jus a month.. hahah... good shit!!! - Mar 03, 09
It's been a week since the Academy Awards announced its eagerly anticipated results. Slumdog Millionaire, the phenomenon swept away most of the leading awards which included best picture, best director and a host of technical awards. As one of my friends kept updating me about the results, i couldn't help but think that Slumdog got lucky this year.
When compared to previous years, i personally felt the movies that came out this year weren't great. Secondly, there were some glaring misses in this year's academy list. It came as a huge shock to me when Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino, and Nolan's Dark Knight were both not nominated. Both films, i feel were far superior technically as well as aesthetically when compared to The Reader.
And talking bout Slumdog... i couldn’t refrain myself from thinking that Slumdog is just like any other bollywood film.
Technically well crafted, with the right mix of love, hope and emotions, Cheesy lines, average performances, good background scores and amazing cinematography. Is this the formula to win the coveted Academy Awards? If Slumdog could win, so could Dilwale Dulhaniya Le jayenge, Swades or any other Commercial Hindi Film. All these films have the heart at its right place, just like Slumdog.
A lot of people told me it’s because I expected so much out of the film that i found it to be disappointing. I wouldn't agree to that. I had huge expectations out of The Dark Knight too, but it did not disappoint. Slumdog is an amazing commercial film. It made money, It touched ppl's heart, It's MAGIC MASALA at its best! Frankly Speaking, not Oscar material!
I mean, look at the movies which have won the Oscars recently (LOTR, The Departed, No country for Old Men). How can one even compare Slumdog to these films. It kinda gives me the same feeling i had a few years back, when Saif ALi Khan Won the Best Actor Award for HUM TUM at the prestigious National Awards for his so called Nonchalant performance.
Maybe Awards are too over rated.
The very fact that the Oscar results are being celebrated like crazy in India is also kinda weird to be honest. Of course; A R Rahman and Resul Pookutty have made India proud. Critics and film makers in India might rant their guts out because people consider the Oscars as the gold standard. I believe it is the gold standard, its international, and everyone follows it. It's not like the India'n National Awards which are given to movies made 2 years earlier and has terrible publicity. Rahman and Resul are International stars now, and it is thanks to the academy awards.
Coming back to the boisterous celebrations in India, i kinda feel it’s funny. The movie is ultimately a British Production. It's Danny Boyle's baby, and the thought behind the project was British. So why do we have to make such a big deal out of it. What the Wards have done though is given a phantom lift to technicians in India. The technical experts who were never valued till now will be sought after from now on.
If Asutosh Gowariker, or Bhansali made a movie in Hollywood, with Santhosh Sivan handling tha camera, Amitabh Shukla Editing and Rahman giving the Soundtrack won an oscar, then it would make more make sense for all the ovation and celebration. I don't understand why it's been vociferously projected as India's Shining Light when it's heart itself is not Indian. It’s just a fantastic example of an Indo British Collaboration, which is a good thing for the Indian Film Industry.
The big debate which followed after the movie released was how it showed India in Bad Light. I personally feel that the central theme of the movie is hope and not slums. The slums are just a premise from where the protagonist rises. Some people say that the movie showed the Indian Police in Bad light, one must remember that the Departed showed rampant corruption within The FBI!!!!
The fact remains that our directors were not
1) Adventurous
2) Smart Enough
to smartly deal with a topic like that Dharawi. When 30 percent of the living folk in BOmbay live in such conditions, it’s not surprising that a British Director came and shot himself to glory. we should be ashamed that we could not come up with our own project which could have been more sensitive, and sensible.
Slumdog is not a great movie, If Oscars are the Gold standard, then it got lucky. Like my brother said, u never know if its a carefully orchestrated Zeit Geist to depict a rather gloomy and vulnerable image of India. I don't believe in that theory, but you never know, the world is quite a strange place! If Slumdog could bag 8 Oscars... ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE! - Feb 04, 09
I was looking forward to a break this weekend. My vacations kinda din go according to plan. The dream FILM never took off. It was very disheartening to see a whole load of planning go down the drain.
I reached Manipal on the 8th of Jan. Ever since, our whole college has been busy with our college fest Article 19. There has been a cascade of good and bad news all along. Things are going ok, and i really hope it churns out the way we have been planning.
In between, ma friends had left for Goa.FINANCIAL CONSTRAINTS, and Worried Parents = No GOA!!
So, when my folks told me that they would be reaching India on the 31st, i was ecstatic. The Break was ON... finally...
I took the train to Kannur at 7.30. I couldn't get a sleeper class ticket. The general compartment was cramped like always. I gingerly steeped in, because i love traveling comfortably. There were no seats available, hence i decided to rely on my powers on observation to entertain myself, and it's only then i realized, how culturally dynamic India really is.
I saw some really colorful people, Some of them were drunk beyond imagination, some were depressed and lonely, some slept on the floor, some of them smoked beedi, while some sang songs.Some read about Obama, some vociferously blasted George Bush. Every now and then, i also came across working professionals, most of them frowning. Traveling everyday can be expensive, and it so avidly showed on their face.
I reached home, and out of the blue sprung a trip to Chennai. Sleep, good food and rest went out of the window. Another 16 hours of trains..the bags were packed.. and exactly 16 hours later, i was at the same station.. OFF to Chennai!
This time, i was allotted a ticket in the AC compartment. I was just reminiscing my journey 2 days back. There was a phantom shift in people. Families, young couples, businessmen, laptops, i pods, trendy phones and a lot of pleasant faces. I assumed they were all very happy. Some of them slept throughout the journey, while others involved themselves in interesting discussions. Once again Obama was the center of discussion, among a group of elderly friends. That's the human thought in a nut shell, we all discuss the same issues, the ambiance may differ, the may people may vary.. but the discussions are mystically inter connected.
We reached Chennai in the evening. We had to meet a few people there, and after that we traveled across the city. We went to the Marina beach, and GOD. its huge! We also visited M.G.R's(a famous Tamil actor) tomb. A beautifully built structure, me and ma dad walked along the pavement, and discussed how stars become demi-gods in Chennai... We saw a few churches, and headed straight back to the railway station.
Our train was scheduled to leave at 11.30a.m. We settled ourselves amidst a confusing set of seat numbers in the train. There was a pretty girl sitting next to us. I kinda figured that she was traveling alone. Oh ya, forgot to mention, i was completing my cycle of compartments with this trip, i was traveling via sleeper class to Kannur.
A few minutes later a drunk old man came and sat next to her, a few minutes later i heard her scream, the poor old man was a little too tempted seeing the pretty girl. He tried grabbing her leg(Testosterone and its effects), ma bro immediately informed the cops. The old man was too drunk to even realize that cops were screaming at him. She said thanks... and a few hours later, we had a engaging conversation. She spoke about her love and admiration for Prophet Mohammed, She told me how she loathed Chethan Bhagats books,Her love for Biographies and books related to reality We spoke about Khaled Husseini, Feminism, Her half German-half Mallu boyfriend who was her ex Boyfriend's best friend,her lovw for runnig log distances and her wish to Swim in Kannur's beaches.
There was also a dental student, traveling wit us in the same coach, who spoke a lot to my family. She spoke about her love for Chethan Bhagat's books, her love for Fiction, her adulation for Sidney Sheldon, and how she planned to join the army once she completed her course.
I reached Kannur at 2 in the morning.Sleep deprived,tired, and irritated, i got off. As the train slowly began to move, i realized, that India. lives in its Trains.... - Dec 11, 08
About 10 days back, i was aimlessly loitering across our college library.Feeling bored and lonely, i needed some respite, i decided to chill in college for a bit. Library always serves me 2 purposes. When i am in one of those serious modes, i would pick something up randomly and read.Whatever little i know about Indian politics are from these endeavours. Otherwise(most of times that is), i would lurk around and find someone to hit a conversation with).
That day the library had very few people. I caught a glance of one of my classmates Sarah.. who was reading the Indian Express.The headline said.. Mumbai Rescued.... the first question that came across my mind was.. FROM WHAT? IS saving Oberoi and Taj the end of the story here?
Yes, all ten terrorists were captured, 9 of them were killed, But does that save Mumbai?
13 days after the vicious terrorist attacks, i logged on to the same news channels which had covered the events. For a minute i really wondered how fucked are we? People were dancing on the streets, celebrating victory! Democracy's victory!!! they said..People spoke about how the spirit of freedom had overcome political agendas. Just one word came across ma mind!! BULLSHIT!
Over the past 4-5 years.. 929 people have died in blasts(Officials figures). There have been 19 reported TERRORIST ATTACKS in India. Mumbai and Delhi have suffered the highest number of casualties. I didn't have the courage to find out the number of people injured during these blasts. Also, the very next day after the prepostorous Attacks in Mumbai,there wer 9 School kids (aged 4-5) who were ran over by a lorry in my hometown.. None of India's so called National news channels even gave a mention about the incident. So what is national news? 9 innocent school children dying a pitiful death... aren't their lives worth a penny?
We blame the politicians for every damn thing... we must realize that they are nothing, but a cross section of US. We forgive easily.. we move on.. Tomorrow Rab ne Bana Di JOdi will release in INDIA... and people will be content with the garbage Aditya Chopra serves us.Our lives will move on..we forget that another 929 lives could also have moved on!
Barkha Dutt went head over heels reporting at the Taj and Oberoi, when people at the VT station were being shot at ..i mean 'SHOT AT' simultaneously. I do not propose to say that the hostages at Taj or Oberoi should not be given importance.. My basic question is Simple.. What is the value of Human Life in this nation? I mean we are not talking about cocunuts here!! N still, we the common man post elections blurt out to the media sayin " The spirit of freedom and democracy has gained victory!!" GIMME A FUCKIN BREAK!
So who is to blame?? The media for being so commercialized? The politicians, for being so oppurtunistic? The terrorists, who are just fucked in the head?? or us.. u me and this stupid society which doesn't think to save their life.. LITERALLY!!!
I recently read AMi's blog... n while reading the blog.. i realized how these attacks have changed lives. she loves her Mumbai... But i can give it in writing, these attacks will be remembered as 26/11 in the days to come... and nothing more than that. Remembrance!!!! Democracy!! Freedom... Geuninely speaking.. i am just a fortunate soul who is extremely lucky to still be alive in this country!!! MUMBAI RESCUED.. makes for a good headline!LK Advani said today.. that India will be harsh against these terror... 929 people have died already... So someone please explain to me "what is being harsh?".
And yeah... in the midst of national tension, we had an Idiotic Father and an PAthetic CM who were engaged in a cat fight.. Why? Because one of India's real heroes died while trying to save the people of the this country. Sandeep Unnkrishnan.. Thank you! We are sorry.. for being so FUCKED in the head! - Oct 02, 08
about 4 hours ago... me and ma frend were chilling at our favourite hang out... the baby beach.. randomly discussing the various realms of life. Our talks varied in character and topics, ranging from religion, mass communication, dubai, life, society, his social life, his fear of commitment, my need for commitment... its a usual routine we share.. whenver we catch up, we have lots to tell one another. Ma other buddy had jus gone to drop a frend to the bus stop. My frend who was enjoyin the serenity if the rumbling sea had by then called his mom and told her that he would be late... we thot the 3 of us wud have dinner together...
we reached the bus stop, and a random guy who appeard to be frenz with ma frend suddenly turned up and said.. "Avinash's Dad passed away". we were all set aback for a minute. i was confused!!!
me and avi.. haven spoken to one another for 3 years.. we had a major spat when we were at school. Even though we were thick friends earlier, the issue bloated out of proportions. Both of us didn't take the pain of settling things between us though. We socialized together, yet never looked at one another. We hated each other for bout a year.. things cooled off... n we both were happy to leave each other alone afetr that. A few of my friends took the initiative to bring us together, but it never worked out. My ego always pulled me back.. i believe in certain ideals.. n most of the time i stick to them like glue. and i believe the same applied to him too...
Now i was in a dilemma... on one hand i had ma ego... which is extremely dear to me.. on the other hand i had a lost frend... who had just lost sum1 very precious. as my frend got on2 his bike.. and said hop along, i didnt say a word.. jus got behind the bike.. n we headed straight for the hospital.
we reached the hospital... and then i started havin second thoughts.. confronting sum1 at his worst hour.. when u haven uttered a word to him for years.. and on top pf that all the emotional turbulence i was gong thru.. seeing his relatives... my other frenz... i was not sure how i wud react if i saw him... i didn't know whether to talk to him.. smile at him... i was blank... about 15 mins later he arrived... we shook hands.. n he said thanks... i was silent once again...
the hospital formalites continued.. i was feeling bad.. death often brings me to a deep low.. its not just the fact that its scary... but also the fact that the nearest and dearest ones are the only ppl who can feel he pain.. regardless of how much we try.. we can relate only to a certain extent.. while he was not there.. i had jovial conversations with other frenz.... there is an openess about death.. yet.. for the dear ones... suddenly everythin seems clogged and claustophobic...
i was alspo disgusted by the hospital;s icu.. maybe sum otr tym i wil write bout it... coz our health care sector sucks...
ma brother by then had booked ma tickets for 2 a.m.. it was already 10.30.. i had to leave.. n i thot.. i had to say bye to avi.. i went upstairs.. saw him there... it took a lot in me to go and call out his name... i said.. hey avi.. sorry.. my condolances.. he said... thanks man.. u bein here meant a lot to me... he embraced each other.. n he said thanks again...
he smiled.. so did i... n the avalnche of hatred we had for one anoher jus fizzled off in a matter of seconds... i reached home.. n until this point when i am typin down these thinsg.. i din realize what just transpired... but i feel happy.... i left my ego aside... and i feel good about it
its sad dat it took me this very day... to take such a step... on the other hand.. he genuinely smiled wen he saw me der... it was jus one of those weirdly special moments... wer at times i just fail to understand myself.. it was a day of such irony... of al the days in the world.. we had to patch up 2de... maybe wen emotions run so high... we tend to forget and forgive.. after all i wud have jus hated myself if i din go der.. i dunno how much it meant to him.. but i am sure.. i feel good about it...
Now wen i look bak at this event.. n relate it to the conversation i had wit ma frend.. sumwer down the line it connects... sumtimes.. things are hard.. but if ones action can make the other person smile... everythin changes...but do we really want that change.. aren't we al happy with proving points to one another.. its become so easy for ppl to hate one another.. n for me hate is 2 strong a word... but dats wats happenin... sumwer down the line.. people have stopped connecting with one another.. somewer down the line we have all become very plastic....
May god bless his soul.. n may god give avi the strength to go thru this painful moment!!! - Jul 17, 08
07/08/2008
It has taken me 20 hours to think rationally. It might take me 20 years to digest what happened yesterday. Everything becomes history, once the present glides by, but the strange philosophy we humans follow is we don’t term everything as HISTORIC, Sunday’s Gentlemen’s singles final at Wimbledon was ‘Historic’ and It’s not often that one gets to experience such a historic Event.
A few years back, if my memory doesn’t fail me, in 2001, a young pretender called Roger Federer snatched the throne, from a legend and stole a million hearts after his dramatic performance at the SW 19 centre court. The young boy, with a ponytail and outrageous amounts of talent created ripples in the tennis world when he defeated Pete Sampras on that very gloomy day, The god of grass courts had just fallen in front of the young prodigy, and many people pointed that very day, that maybe, the time of the great Pistol Pete maybe fading away. Sampras went on a terrible streak, and had to wait for another year and a half to win another title. His last I may add. Maybe god played his part there, Sampras had fallen from grace, he was insulted, humiliated and written off many times, but the true champion that he was, he fought back and won the US Open, ending on the finest careers the world of tennis had ever seen on an extreme high.
Yesterday night, I could find a very similar pattern developing to what happened 7 years ago. Roger Federer over the past 5 years has made a monster out of himself. Every victory was ridiculous. He broke people, not just physically, but mentally also. He dominated tennis like no other player in history. He won 12 grand slams, beat everyone in his way, but one title eluded him, and very soon he began to realize that there was a Gladiator, who was threatening to derail the great Fed Express. Federer has never won the French open during his professional career. It is not because Federer is a flawed clay courter. Over the past 3 years he has made the finals 3 times of the most prestigious Clay court tournament, and has more than 8 clay court titles to his name which includes masters series tiltles in Hamburg, Rome etc. Federer has been one match away from creating history, but his dream of winning the French open was thwarted, not once, but 4 times, By a young pretender once again. This young pretender was entirely different from the pony tailed hero at Wimbledon 7 years ago. He was muscular, he was relentless, he was power personified, He was adrenaline at its best, and his golden words were VAMOS RAFA!!! Rafael Nadal has been a thorn on Roger’s side for the past 4 years now. He has consistently beaten the best player in the world, predominantly over clay. Prior to last Sunday he had a winning record of 11-6 over the Fed Express.
Preceding Wimbledon, Federer faced his most Humiliating loss, at the French Open to Rafa. He was outperformed, Outhit and outclassed by a seemingly invincible Rafael Nadal. The victory was tough for Federer to take, never had the great champion been in such a tight spot. He still believed in himself, and knew Wimbledon was just around the corner, and everyone knew, who the KING there was.
Federer had not lost a single match in over 5 years at Wimbledon; literally decimating every opponent that came his way. At 9.25p.m, on the lush green grass courts at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, Federer faced what he had never expected. He was facing Match point, and when he hit the net 5 shots later, he knew his world had just fallen apart. Federer was dethroned by a seemingly Irresistible Nadal, and the Great Champion lost to Nadal at his own Yard. Nadal was crowned the new champion, on a very gloomy Sunday.
What next for Federer? He is just 26, is still world number one, and many still call him the most talented plyer on tour. But maybe deep down, Fed knows that at this point of time he is no longer the best player in the world. As I mentioned earlier, it has taken me 20 hours to digest the fact that Rafa was the better player on Sunday, and trust me, it’s not often that I would say this. Both players were exceptionally good, just that Rafa was an ounce better.
But it’s not just in sports that being 2nd hurt. In every aspect of our lives, all of us fear being second to someone. Whether it is at our work places, academics, and of course, relationships, being a very high second priority can actually be a lot more disturbing than being totally insignificant. One of the main reasons why it happens is because on the periphery everything looks perfect, but the truth is, its not even close. Sometimes I wish I was insignificant, rather than being second to someone.
Maybe, the greatest challenge for Federer might be to accept that he was second best at his own forte. I have been following tennis since I was 5 years old, and there is no doubt that Sunday’s match was the greatest tennis match ever played. Roger came second best, and trust me… I don’t think he is enjoying it at all. It’s a sickening feeling, to come off second best. One might get a lot of sympathy, but it doesn’t help. No one likes being second best. I would prefer losing at the very first hurdle rather than busting my ass off till the end and falling at the finish line. It doesn’t matter if you lose badly, or lose close. History will say Federer lost the French Open Final and then Roger lost the Wimbledon final. Contrasting matches I must say, but ultimately for federer, in both matches he came second best, and these are truly bad signs for the great champion.
A storm has hit Federer now, but its here where we will now, what he is made out of. I am his biggest fan, and at this point of time, I think this is federer’s best opportunity to prove that he is the best once and for all. The only way he can do that, is by bouncing back. We have all called him the greatest. He nearly proved it after conquering 12 grand slams, but now comes the acid test. The next year or two will decide how good Federer really is. I predict a Backlash. Next year Federer will bounce back, in a way, that no one has ever witnessed, because he is a champion, and a champion is one who fights back when adversity hits him.
- Jun 19, 08
Ahh.. i am such a lazy bum... i started off with topics for nearly four posts over the past one month or so... but i could never finish typing them... i am not very sure of the reasons why i leave things incomplete.... i have about 3 books which i have finished half way... a tv series which i had vowed to finish about 3 months back.... and a whole load of other things.. which i don't thing i will discussing here... for sure....!!!
Bangalore has been really kind to be honest.i have been here for about 2 weeks now... i must say.. bangalore has its own charm... the weather especially... it makes you feel good about yourself... especially for people who come from the coasts.. who are so used to that sticky feeling after a long day's work(grrrrr)... you really feel pleased.. even if you have a are loaded with work... primarily bcause.. U DON'T FEEL STICKY at all!!!!
I have been interning for about 2 weeks now... i finally realized my hidden potentials. I know now that i can wake up at 7,without any assistance(i hope nokia alarms don't count in here), without anyone calling me, pushing me, or kicking me, or lifting me off the bed. BY now, i have realized that i can sit at one single place, and work for hours(GTALK does help though)...
Work has been fun.. The ambience is great.. so are the people.. and as i earlier said.. this place doesn't make me feel sticky... so i am enjoying my work as an intern here.
But, Some philosophical mind of ancient times had once told, life is a bed of roses... and i have realized its true...
I had An encounter.. WITH THE 2 MOST DEVIOUS A'S IN THE LONG HISTORY OF THE HUMAN CIVIILIZATION...
1)AUTO RICKSHAW Drivers
2)ATM CARDS, AND THEIR USERS!!!
Auto Rickshaws are an enigma by itself.... i am not sure as to when was the first auto rickshaw made.. but.. whoever who made it... must have thought about 3 countries for sure while making it.. India, Pakistan And Bangladesh.. I would say.. autorickshaws are damn cool... the fresh air that one gets... the buffed up music systems one gets to find these days.. and the meandering moves it makes through the streets of our Culturally Diverse Country truly makes it special. The transport sector is Service oriented... BUT.. out here in Bangalore.. its a different scenario.. altogether....
The Drivers are arrogant, ruthless and agressive... they dont take you where you wanna go.. they take you where they wanna go... every day.. and i am not exaggerating, every single day.. i have to encounter atleast 15 such sadistic drivers before one of them budges... and says.. "Theek Hai Saab... LE jayega.. lekin Double pay karne ka hai boss". I am Generally left with no option... u can't insert a needle in any of the buses here.. and going late to work is not that enterprising an idea...
Its just crazy...there are times when i literally feel like breaking their bloody jaws...I mean everything is ok... the look that they give.. when you tell them your preferred destination... that sarcastic hideous look.. grrrr.. i hate their bloody guts. i dont understand the logic behind this... i am willing to pay them.. for their work.. at times.. i am even willing to pay them twice the amount.. and still.. they just won't drive... they would't blink an eye.. is it ego... is it pride.. or is it plain letarghy... i really don't know.... but as far as i am concerned... these guys... they are unfathomably arrogant!! but you cant help.. TII...This is India.. U can't do shit about such things!!!
The other A.. ATM machines, and especially their users...
there are days when i wait outside an atm machine.. for 5 - 10 minutes... jus observing people fiddle around with that machine... trying to figure out how to decimate that machine... at times.. i do feel like recording clips of how Our people use atm's... trust me... the kinda screw up's we make make for really gud education!!
For those who don't know what ATM's are.. in the simplest of forms.. its a device which allows you to withdraw money from your own bank account using a card which is provided to you by the bank themselves. it follows a 7 step process
1)INSERT THE CARD WHEB THE GREEN LIGHT STARTS BLINKIN(ICICI ATM TAKES THE CARD INSIDE THE MACHINE.. SO U DON'T HAVE TO PANIC)
2)ENTER YOUR PIN CODE
3)CHOOSE WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT TO DO, TO WITHDRAW MONEY(WHICH IS OUR PRIME PURPOSE), CLICK ON THE BANKING OPTION.. WHICH WILL BE SHOWN ON THE SCREEN.
4)THEN CHOOSE THE OPTION CASH WITHDRAWAL.. THEIR A HOST OF OTHER OPTIONS... PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON FIDDLE AROUND WITH IT..
5)CHOOSE YOUR TYPE OF ACCOUNT, SAVINGS OR CURRENT
6)THE MACHINE WILL ASK YOU IF YOU WANT A PRINTED ADVICE... IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MONEY.. BUT SINCE A LOT OF US HAVE AN IQ CLOSE TO THAT OF A DOLPHIN(NO DISPREPECT TO ANY DOLPHINS READING THIS).. PLEASE CHOOSE THE OPTION YES.. IT BASICALLY PRODUCES A RECIEPT WHICH WILL GIBVE YOU YOUR BALANCE AFTER YOU HAVE WITHDRAWN CASH.
7)AND PRESS OK..
next thing you know the money will come out of the machine... it will make a beeping Sound.. GUyz.. don't worry.. collect the cash.. the reciept which will come out from the right hand side... n leave(n for icici customers.. the card will come out...)
n let the next guy,, come in... these 7 steps.. take a maximum of 1 minute 30 seconds.. to the max...
The worst bit is... the educated class of our society.. young minds.. college students are also seen doing mind numbing blunders while using an atm machine.. is it that hard.. or am i just over reacting... i don't know.. i have had some really bitter experiences... i once missed my train to ma native coz an idiot was trying to operate the atm with instructions in a language he had not even heard of..he was dressed as if he had set out to conquer england... he took 5 minutes... n came outside.. with a smile.. as if.. he had just conquered england... n yes... he was a college student... TII.. once agian.. This is India...
And yes.. our atm machines are also state of the art... in a survey that i conducted on ma own will.. i found out that 1 out of every 3 atm's don't work in most cities... a lot od it has to do with the beating it takes by the users... still.. its a stagerring statistic...
I do get frustrated by such errands... it hurts me when we act as lunatics... i am an optimistic person though.. i am postive things will change... lets all hope for a better tomorrow - May 28, 08
2 years done!!
It’s actually a stupid realization, but it’s true. 2 years in manipal’s over. It’s been an eventful ride, which is not surprising. I was just wondering how much I have changed over the years. To change is actually not a big deal. A lot depends on the kind of environment we are in. I guess rather than realization, it’s a place that moulds people.
In any case, these two years have been a lot of fun. First year was actually a test, a test of character, and a quest to find who I really was. The ride was bumpy I must say, but it thought me quite a bit. A friend of mine had once told me MANIPAL EITHER MAKES YOU, OR IT BREAKS YOU. These words still keep ringing in my mind, and maybe they inspired me to battle it out against all the odds that were against me.
I know the word OBSTACLE may sound a little too obsolete, but I guess whenever man tries to battle change, it is a huge OBSTACLE. To accept change is to duel with ones own ego, and maybe that is the most difficult part of it all. I was exposed to a lot of realities, and a lot of different things. It did take time to sink in and acclimatize, imbibe the Manipal Life. After 2 years, the fruits are beginning to reap. And life seems all the more better.
The year began with a new house, a new (and I must add very sensible housemate) and a lot of new dreams. The Manipal Journal became bigger and stronger. A lot of new friends entered into my life, and I began to understand a few of my other friends better. During this little journey, a few of them raced ahead, and I couldn’t catch up to them, and by then the sensibilities of a lot of them changed. It’s here that the change occurred. A sudden transformation which initially was a little difficult to handle. It was just like one of those little hiccups that one gets all the time. It bothered me for a while, but as time flew by, along with it flew these little hiccups. I realized that people sometimes change drastically, and things may not always be the way it seems to be.
By the end of 3rd semester, I grew rather close with a few people, and maybe for the first time in manipal, I found close friends. Vacations came at the wrong time though. Just when I was bridging the gaps with a few people, there came a 30 day lay off, and things slowly shifted back to square one once again. Regardless of that, I loved the 3rd semester, for a variety of reasons. A few good photographs, a good run at the inter mahe tennis tournament and the realization of finding good friends may well have been the reasons.
Maybe the highlight of the year was the 4th semester. Utsav, article 19 and mmsc… all in the space of a month. There was a lot of love in the air suddenly. The 3rd years spread the message of love through their emotional video HUM. The video was a strong factor in bringing their whole class together. As a batch, we made up for the fiasco created during our freshie party by organizing a decent farewell for our seniors. Once again there was a lot of emotion during the party.. People kept screaming to one another... We will miss you (its very common during every farewell party). I did have fun though. To observer love is actually a fun thing to do!!!!
As the year drew to a close, I finally began to realize that it was time to bid adieu to a lot of people I genuinely cared for. A hap hazardly planned trip to Gokarna changed a lot of things, and maybe changed my life in a little way. I met and interacted with the people I loved being the most with, but I guess every good chapter comes to a close. When every bus to Bangalore left after the exams, I suddenly felt very lonely, a feeling I had not felt in a long while. realization sunk in that those people would no longer be there
i generally don't edit ma posts.. but since i have nothin else to do right now.. i thot of addin on somethin dat i forgot 2 add in this post earlier.. my juniors...
they are a funny lot... very happy and sweet... i guess i am kinda friendly with everyone... i must say their enthusiasm does surprise my every now and den... one more year lay ahead... n i hope to find a lot of gud frenz der....
It’s been a year with no regrets. A few disappointments do cringe up though. A few things need to be told, a few things need to be done. I guess that’s the beauty of life… there is always scope for improvement.
I am looking forward to another eventful year… and hopefully a year with fewer disappointments. The plans are set, but when it comes to execution, I have a problem… I am generally SLOW at it - Mar 12, 08
I havent posted anythin for a bit, and i am quite lazy as of now to think, ponder and type something down. this is an article which i had written quite a while back... .. a few of ma frenz must have already read this.. anyways... for th ones who haven't.. do read through...
How often do we really express what we feel for others? Encountering a tough boss or a biased teacher can be a little difficult if we explore deep into our inner thoughts and blurt out whatever we feel like. Prudence should prevail, and attitudes should change, and its here were hypocrisy helps to find a way.
Every human is born with a variety of values… and hypocrisy is one among them. Who doesn’t like being applauded? Who doesn’t crave for success? It’s quintessential to realize that hypocrisy is not always a negative virtue. People spend a fortune on beauty products and clothing; one must realize that the catalyst behind shelling out such huge amounts is the irrepressible quench for man to socialize in their preferred groups. People willingly change physically as well as emotionally to gain acceptance in society. Deep down every individual prefers company over isolation, and this inevitably creates a hint of a second personality for a person within a group.
Hypocrisy brings about a certain level of sophistication that propels him/her to attain the dizzying heights of success. Gone are the days when people were lauded for their moral virtues. People are judged on the basis of output and efficiency. No one likes being questioned or cornered; there is a growing need for being politically correct in society because a neutral stand in controversial issues can save an individual from a lot of flack from people around him.
Hypocrisy breeds success. Politicians, bureaucrats and celebrities use hypocrisy as a potent tool to cross the various obstacles in front of them. Especially in an industry like the film industry, where there are zillions of ideas and conflicting interests, portrait smiles and sweet words may serve as the key to gain popularity and acceptance among peers. Similarly in politics, the ones successful are those who strike the right note among both the public and the opposition. The right choice of words can often prove to be the difference between staying in power and losing it.
If a few flowery words can keep people happy, and ultimately get your work done, then why bother so much about using them? The focus of any individual should be to attain success, and being an intelligent hypocrite can often be the platform from which one can rise. Choosing diplomatic words, being nice to everyone, irrespective of whether you love them or loathe them, and a general devil-may care attitude is what the modern world expects.
When we look in the mirror after a long day’s work, there is always a question that menacingly lurks above us- are we really the person we pretend to be??? Most of us may ignore this question, and move on with our lives, but the fact of the matter remains, that to a certain extent, there is an element of hypocrisy that’s innately designed within us - Feb 27, 08
Human beings are very strange in many ways. a lot of people say that the human race is different because of the power of speech and intelligence. i feel the most important difference between us and the rest, is the power of PRETENSION!!!
i strongly feel that there are multiple layers of personality in every individual. here the whole concept of individuality of a person is questioned, but when you think about it, is it not true that our behavioural pattern is more or less dependent on the kinda circumstances that we are in. Perspectives and perceptions change within a blink of an eye, once we find ourselves cornered.
The most commonly used terminology(that pretty much fries my brain every single time) is "be yourself". i believe its a paradox for a variety of reasons. i would say, to be yourself is to choose between 2 or 4 personalities within you. there is a leader in everyone of us, there is a fighter in everyone of us, there is a sadist in everyone of us, there is a child in everone of us.... now.. the boiling question is.... what do you mean by "urself"???
The powers of observation is the only neccessary tool that's required to understand what i am talking about. when you look around yourself, one sees a variety of characters. i firmly believe in one theory "no man can love anyone more than himself". every individual for that matter is extremely selfish, and i shall explain this theory usng two examples.
1. consider yourself as a soldier, and you are the only remaining obstacle for the enemy. if an enemy soldier loads a gun and puts it across your forehead.. what do fight for.. to save your life, or to save a country???
2.suppose you want to be in love... on one hand, there is someone who loves you deeply, with every bit of his heart, and on the other hand, there is someone with whom you would love to share a relationship.. who would you choose?
i have asked the latter question to a lot of ma frenz, and i would say, 9 out of 10 ppl have told me that they would choose the person who loves them. and that's wen i realized that its easy to preach, but its kinda hard to practise theories. inevitably, we devote our time and energy to the people who we like and ignore the love from the ppl who can actually give... simply because our happiness is more important to us than anythin else...truth bites, but ppl cant accept it!!
People always pretend to be sensible though... they pretend to understand things, they pretend to be nice, and they pretend to give unconditionally.Some people pretend to be friends. once again all one needs is the power of observation.
i myself have been a victim of such pretentious friends. the world has indeed become a very dark place to live... asking for favours is fine... what happens when your pretentious friends demand for favours. what if a relationship is formed only because the other half requires a shoulder whenever he or she requires one. what happenes when your inbox is flooded with text messages craving for support, only and i mean only when he/she is going through a rough phase in life.
we humans have a very direct approach toward life.. when we are scared.. we seek god.. when we are elated.. do we even bother thinkin about the omnipotent force? when we need help, we approach a friend, but when someone needs help, do we approach them?
i believe its high time we look at ourself in the mirror.. and ask ourself.. am i being pretentious, or is it just that am bloody selfish? the peripheral person within us will never try to understand the meaning of this blog.. but if there is a lil bit of conscience left within us.. we might jus think bout it for a second... onr thing is for sure though....NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE!!!it jus natural.... - Feb 26, 08
i welcome myself to the world of bloggin,since there is no one around to greet me.
there is a hell load to type down, but as of nw.. am a lil busy..
i will get bak, coz i wanna get bak!!!
till then.. may god bless me!!!
